A book in which you, the infamous ability stealer, are the newest member of the Port Mafia and as witty as they come. Being the constant centre of attention, you have managed to catch the eye of the notorious young executive; Chuuya Nakahara, but no...
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You woke up gasping for air—as if you'd just rose to the surface after almost drowning in the deep blue sea, battling with mysterious underwater forces trying to hold you down like an anchor. It was a strange, inexplicable feeling; waking up with your heart pounding in your ears like you'd just been violently roused from a horrific nightmare, your hand immediately flying to your chest to quell the frenetic beating of your heart going thump thump thump against the cage of your ribs.
You weren't too sure what was going on.
Your head was killing—it was what could have only been described as a monstrous hangover but a hundred—no, scratch that—a thousand times worse. You could barely remember anything; your thoughts groggy and disorientated. This headache felt like a balloon under your cranium, slowly being inflated, pressure mounting. Your brain literally felt as if it would swell beyond the capacity of your skull.
You tried hard to remember something. Anything. Wracking your brain for some kind of explanation regarding why you had woken up so suddenly like this. You vividly remembered entering a nightclub with Chuuya and downing shots until alcohol had replaced the blood streaming through your veins. You remembered dancing until you could no longer feel your legs. You remembered entering a bathroom. You especially remembered you on your knees and—
Yeah, that one you were going to have keep to yourself.
And then you remembered realising the entire nightclub was actually empty, and as you began to explore the vacant vicinity, you remembered seeing a raccoon in the midst of all the chaos and then—
Suddenly, everything had come back to you. You gasped, audibly, as the realisation had finally hit you like a blow to the jaw. The grogginess and disorientation had completely dissipated now—and you were hyperaware of the fact that your life could potentially be in danger. The adrenaline had immediately rushed in and you were fully awake in less than a second.
In a state of visible distress and panic, you sat upright on a bed that you'd only just figured out you'd been sleeping in for only God knew how long and began looking around the room once you realised you had woken up in an unfamiliar place, desperately trying to comprehend where the hell you were. Right now, you were experiencing dejavu; this very scenario taking you back to the time where you had woken up in a peculiar setting, the peculiar setting being located inside the Port Mafia base in their grimy little attic room. The only difference was that this time you actually knew how you got here; you and Chuuya had been sucked into a goddamn book, but now you were panicking even more because you had no idea where the hell Chuuya was.
Fuck you, Poe. I thought you were one of the nice ones.
The strange thing was, though, that this room appeared to be something belonging to the Victorian era. The room was large—very large—and you blinked like an owl as you noticed the grand fireplace directly opposite you, keeping you warm, the fire glowing incandescently. The only reason this room reminded you of the Victorian era was the four poster bed; each one of the poles featured a fancy curved design and there was scrollwork on the footboard. The rest of the furniture throughout the room, like the wardrobe, the vanity and the washstand, was that gold-coloured chunky style that probably appealed to Queen Victoria herself.
